Bekijk volle/desktop versie : I've Got Whooping Cough. Thanks a Lot, Jenny McCarthy.



18-11-2013, 21:18
Hoe gevaarlijk is niet vaccineren? Na, hier een voorbeeld over kinkhoest en uitleg over hoe kinder-vaccinaties iedereen beïnvloeden.


I've Got Whooping Cough. Thanks a Lot, Jenny McCarthy.

(bron)

At this writing, I have been coughing for 72 days. Not on and off coughing, but continuously, every day and every night, for two and a half months. And not just coughing, but whooping: doubled over, body clenched, sucking violently for air, my face reddening and my eyes watering. Sometimes, I cough so hard, I vomit. Other times, I pee myself. Both of these symptoms have become blessedly less frequent, and I have yet to break a rib coughing—also a common side effect. Nor do I still have the fatigue that felled me, often, at my desk and made me sleep for 16 hours a night on the weekends. Now I rarely choke on things like water, though it turns out laughing, which I do a lot of, is an easy trigger for a violent, paralyzing cough that doctors refer to not as a cough, but a paroxysm.

Since I came down with pertussis, more commonly known as whooping cough, waking up on Saturday, August 31, with what felt like a light fever and a tightness in my chest, I’ve celebrated the Jewish high holidays, covered Washington's response to the crisis in Syria, hosted several out of town friends and a dinner party or two, attended the funeral of a close relative and the wedding celebration of a close friend, given a lighter strain of the whoop to my mother, and, somewhere in there, managed to turn 31, whooping all the while. I even spent a long weekend on a beach in north Florida, where a friend commented on my now killer abs—odd since, because of my illness, I had not been to the gym at that point for 35 days. “The coughing,” she said cheerfully, “must’ve helped!”

My friends have gotten used to the whoop, and so, it seems, have my colleagues. When they hear it waft across the cubicle walls, that hacking cough melting into a high-pitched, desperate gasping, they now just say, “There’s the whoop!” Which is good because, given that pertussis’s other name is the “100 day cough,” they have a good month of my hackery left to joke about.

It’s funny having the whooping cough at 31 in 2013. Sometimes, you’re at the kind of nice restaurant you can now afford at 31, when the audacity of saying “Mm-hmm” as you chew ends with your choking—actually choking—on a shred of grilled scallion. Sometimes, you’re waiting to go on television to comment on world events, and the producers, having seen how hard make-up was because of your constant, violent coughing, keep you in the hallway until the very last minute so that you don’t interrupt the show with your paroxysms. And sometimes, you’ll start coughing so hard in that hallway that sound engineers peek out and flaccidly offer you some useless cough drops.

Sometimes, you’re interviewing a source and the whoop gets you. When it lets go, you look up and see your source staring at you with eyes squared by horror, and you, still catching your breath, have to soothe and reassure them that you are, after two Z-packs, no longer contagious. Sometimes, you find yourself explaining a sudden paroxysm on a date, and, at first, the guy might think your sense of humor is particularly edgy, with the occasional Victorian flourish. When you explain that, no, I am actually recovering from whooping cough, it can make, after that first stunned and quiet “Oh,” for a nice discussion of public health that ends, inevitably, with a profanity-laced rant about “Park Slope parents” not vaccinating their goddamn kids.

And sometimes you find yourself, after years of imagining yourself a serious reporter, writing for the public about what it’s like to cough so hard that you pee yourself. At 31.

Pertussis, named after the elegantly latinate bacterium Bordetella pertussis, starts the way of any cold or mild flu. Then, a week or two later, the coughing starts. That’s because B. pertussis glom onto and paralyze the cilia, the lash-like filaments in your airways that clear it out of mucus, the stuff your body uses to trap and get rid of the infection. The bacterium also emits various toxins, some of which mask the infection and don’t allow your immune system to recognize and attack it. It therefore takes longer for your body to clear it and leaves your trachea so inflamed that it is sensitive even to things like water and air, leading to those wild coughing fits that sound like this in kids and this in adults. And while my having pertussis at my age seems absurd, it can also be tragic: In babies, the infection can easily be fatal.

There’s a reason that we associate the whooping cough with the Dickensian: It is. The illness has, since the introduction of a pertussis vaccine in 1940, has been conquered in the developed world. For two or three generations, we’ve come to think of it as an ailment suffered in sub-Saharan Africa or in Brontë novels. And for two or three generations, it was.

Until, that is, the anti-vaccination movement really got going in the last few years. Led by discredited doctors and, incredibly, a former Playmate, the movement has frightened new parents with claptrap about autism, Alzheimer’s, aluminum, and formaldehyde. The movement that was once a fringe freak show has become a menace, with foot soldiers whose main weapon is their self-righteousness. For them, vaccinating their children is merely a consumer choice, like joining an organic food co-op or sending their kids to a Montessori school or drinking coconut water.

The problem is that it is not an individual choice; it is a choice that acutely affects the rest of us. Vaccinations work by creating something called herd immunity: When most of a population is immunized against a disease, it protects even those in it who are not vaccinated, either because they are pregnant or babies or old or sick. For herd immunity to work, 95 percent of the population needs to be immunized. But the anti-vaccinators have done a good job undermining it. In 2010, for example, only 91 percent of California kindergarteners were up to date on their shots. Unsurprisingly, California had a massive pertussis outbreak.

It would be an understatement to say that pertussis and other formerly conquered childhood diseases like measles and mumps are making a resurgence. Pertussis, specifically, has come roaring back. From 2011 to 2012, reported pertussis incidences rose more than threefold in 21 states. (And that’s just reported cases. Since we’re not primed to be on the look-out for it, many people may simply not realize they have it.) In 2012, the CDC said that the number of pertussis cases was higher than at any point in 50 years. That year, Washington state declared an epidemic; this year, Texas did, too. Washington, D.C. has also seen a dramatic increase. This fall, Cincinnati reported a 283 percent increase in pertussis. It’s even gotten to the point that pertussis has become a minor celebrity cause: NASCAR hero Jeff Gordon and Sarah Michelle Gellar are now encouraging people to get vaccinated.

How responsible are these non-vaccinating parents for my pertussis? Very. A study recently published in the journal Pediatrics indicated that outbreaks of these antediluvian diseases clustered where parents filed non-medical exemptions—that is, where parents decided not to vaccinate their kids because of their personal beliefs. The study found that areas with high concentrations of conscientious objectors were 2.5 times more likely to have an outbreak of pertussis. (To clarify: I was vaccinated against pertussis as a child, but the vaccine wears off by adulthood, which, until recently, was rarely a problem because the disease wasn't running rampant because of people not vaccinating their kids.)

So thanks a lot, anti-vaccine parents. You took an ethical stand against big pharma and the autism your baby was not going to get anyway, and, by doing so, killed some babies and gave me, an otherwise healthy 31-year-old woman, the whooping cough in the year 2013. I understand your wanting to raise your own children as you see fit, science be damned, but you're selfishly jeopardizing more than your own children. Carry your baby around in a sling, feed her organic banana mash while you drink your ethical coffee, fine, but what gives you denialists the right to put my health at risk—to cause me to catch a debilitating, humiliating, and frightening cough that, two months after I finished my last course of antibiotics (how’s that for supporting big pharma?), still makes me convulse several times a day like some kind of tragic nineteenth-century heroine?

If you have an answer, I’ll be here, whooping, while I wait.

19-11-2013, 08:44



Citaat door --Amazigh--:
geen nieuwswaarde
Behalve dan eventjes leuk die anti-vaxxers hier op het forum met de neus op de feiten drukken he.

19-11-2013, 12:14
http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/the_kids/2013/11/chickenpox_vaccine_is_it_really_necessary.html

Don’t go.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across the Facebook group “Chicken Pox Parties—New York Metro Area.” It has 143 members, all of whom, I’m guessing, are parents who have chosen not to vaccinate their kids against chickenpox and instead hope to build their kids’ immunity the old-fashioned way, by directly exposing them to the germs of a pox-infected child. They are not alone: Facebook has 14 other chickenpox party groups organized by geographical region, and if you can’t get to one in person, you can always ask to be sent a lollipop with an infected child’s spit on it.

Perhaps these parents go this route because they’re distrustful of the vaccine or they think that inoculating against chickenpox is dumb. For those of us who endured chickenpox as kids and emerged relatively unscathed, the varicella vaccine, as it’s called, does at first seem kind of dumb—another unnecessary medical intervention being thrust upon us and another box to check off on the never-ending paperwork that is raising a child. So should we say no to our pediatricians and bring a pox on all our houses instead?

After evaluating the medical evidence, my answer is an emphatic no. The shot is by far the better way to go. That’s because although we might recall chickenpox as a small but annoying blip on our childhood radar it can be dangerous. True, before the vaccine was licensed in 1995, only about 100 to 150 American kids died of chickenpox every year, and most of these children had underlying immune system issues. But every year, chickenpox landed about 11,000 kids in the hospital. It’s not that they couldn’t handle all the itching; one study from Europe (where many countries do not vaccinate against chickenpox) has found that one-fifth of all otherwise healthy kids who are hospitalized for chickenpox suffer neurological problems such as strokes, meningitis, convulsions, and encephalitis. Chickenpox can also cause septic shock, pneumonia, necrotizing fasciitis (that’s flesh-eating bacteria), and other bacterial infections.

All in all, before the vaccine was available, about one in 400 kids who caught the chickenpox ended up in the hospital. (For comparison, your child also has a one in 400 chance of developing diabetes.) But the vaccine prevents these complications. According to one University of Michigan study, after the varicella vaccine was licensed, hospitalizations related to the infection dropped by 75 percent within six years. Clinical trials suggest that after kids receive the first dose of the varicella vaccine between the ages of 12 and 15 months, they are between 80 and 94 percent less likely to catch the infection compared with unvaccinated children (the range I’ve provided here is large because it reflects findings from studies conducted in different ways). After receiving the second dose between ages 4 and 6, kids are 98 percent protected. And even when vaccinated kids do get sick, their bouts are usually very mild because the vaccine still helps them fight the infection more effectively. (Kids are more likely to suffer these “breakthrough” infections if they have asthma or if they receive the MMR vaccine within 28 days of the varicella vaccine.)

There’s also evidence to suggest that the vaccine staves off shingles. Chickenpox is a herpes virus, which, like the kind that affects your lips and nether regions, sits latent inside your cells after an initial infection until something causes it to flare up again. Seniors are at a high risk for suffering these chickenpox-related flare-ups, called shingles, which can cause terrible, long-lasting pain. (About half of all 85-year-olds have had it.) Kids and adolescents can get shingles too, though it’s rare. And a 14-year-long study found that kids vaccinated against varicella were 39 percent less likely to get shingles as youth than were unvaccinated kids who had naturally caught the infection. No one yet knows, however, whether this extra shingles protection will last until old age because the chickenpox vaccine hasn’t been around long enough—its earliest recipients are still pretty young.

Does the vaccine pose risks, too? Of course; every medical intervention does. But the risks associated with the vaccine are much lower than the risks associated with infection. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Food and Drug Administration monitor potential vaccine side effects using the Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System. VAERS isn’t perfect. For one thing, it doesn’t record problems unless patients or their doctors report them. The complaints about the varicella vaccine that get recorded in VAERS aren’t always caused by the varicella vaccine, either. For instance, if a person falls ill soon after getting the shot, it’s possible that the timing is simply a coincidence—maybe the child was catching the flu anyway. Moreover, about half of VAERS complaints about the varicella vaccine describe problems people experience after receiving varicella along with other vaccinations, so it’s impossible to know which vaccine caused the reaction.

Even though the system is imperfect, the numbers suggest that the varicella vaccine is much safer than the infection. VAERS found that between 1995 and 2005, 0.052 percent of people who got the varicella vaccine—that’s 52 out of every 100,000 vaccinees—complained about complications, most of them minor. These included rash (17 out of 100,000), fever (11 out of 100,000), and pain at the injection site (seven out of 100,000). More rarely, the vaccine was associated with diarrhea (1.7 out of 100,000) and convulsions (1.8 out of 100,000 ). And yes, the vaccine was associated with 60 deaths during that decade (one out of every million doses), but most occurred in children who had serious congenital problems or immune-related deficiencies and who should never have gotten the vaccine in the first place. Ten of these deaths were categorized as “crib deaths”—basically, SIDS—so it’s impossible to know whether the vaccine caused them.

Comparing the stats more directly, your kid has a one in 400 chance of ending up in the hospital after catching chickenpox at a party or a one in 2,000 chance of suffering a (likely minor) side effect after getting the vaccine. Death, while rare either way, is also far more likely from chickenpox than from the vaccine. And don’t forget that kids who get the vaccine are 39 percent less likely to suffer shingles as a child or teen. Vaccine 3, pox party 0.

There are other reasons to give your child the vaccine, too. As more and more kids get vaccinated against varicella, the chances of planning a successful pox party drop: There are simply far fewer kids out there getting—and transmitting—chickenpox. You’ll have to work on that invite list a long time before you find your “patient zero.” And the longer it takes an unvaccinated child to catch the infection, the more dangerous that infection becomes, because more severe cases of chickenpox tend to occur in older kids.

And vaccination may pose a public health risk that, paradoxically, further supports the idea that you should inoculate your kid. Some researchers posit that people who catch chickenpox as kids should be re-exposed to the virus throughout life to boost their immunity; research suggests, for instance, that adults who are frequently exposed to chickenpox are less likely to develop shingles. Since so many fewer kids are running around with chickenpox now, some researchers worry that this immune-boosting effect is disappearing and that those of us who had the infection as kids are going to experience a “major epidemic” of shingles in the coming years. (This is partly why, in 2006, the CDC began recommending a single dose of shingles vaccine for adults over the age of 60—the idea is that the vaccine will help provide the missing immune boost.) This potential problem—while still unproven—could be a public health drawback to widespread varicella vaccination, but when it comes to deciding what to do for your child, the shot seems the obvious choice, since it seems to substantially reduce shingles risk compared with infection as it is.

So is there any reason not to give your kid the varicella vaccine? Sure. The vaccine is generally not advised for sick kids, those with immune-related conditions such as HIV or cancer, kids who have recently had transfusions, those who have been on immune-quashing steroids for more than two weeks, and children who have had allergic reactions to previous doses of the chickenpox vaccine or have allergies to gelatin or neomycin. (These unvaccinated kids, by the way, rely on herd immunity to keep them safe from infection—so by choosing not to inoculate your child, you’re also putting these already at-risk kids at more risk.) Otherwise, though, the shot is a no-brainer. It is highly effective and poses far fewer risks than the infection does. Plus, it may reduce your child’s risk of shingles. And now that so many kids are being vaccinated against chickenpox, parents who opt for pox parties, or who blithely assume their kid will be infected at school, might end up with a very sick older kid one day.

I know that it’s tempting to think, That’s silly; I didn’t have the vaccine, so my kid shouldn’t need it either. But you might as well be saying that your kid has no right to a healthier, safer world than the one you grew up in—and that sounds far sillier.

19-11-2013, 12:18
1. ik zal me nooit laten vaccineren mijn lichaam moet sterk blijven door op een natuurlijke manier terug te vechten

2.lees over illuminati en vaccinatie

en seal jij bent echt een aap die het wel lijkt alsof hij in dienst is van de illuminati

dit is een waardeloze bericht dat snel verwijdert moet worden